Twenty Tones of Red

by Pauline Montford

  There was a pause between courses when she was left alone in darkness. From the muffled sounds that reached her through the hood she was aware that he was clearing things from the table and when she was sure that he was far away in the kitchen she lifted her wrists in little tugging motions to create some more gentle pressure between her legs. She felt so sensitised and so totally tingling and alive that it was almost impossible to resist exploring the sensations she could create just by pulling on the rope. She stopped when she heard him approaching and when he’d set down more crockery she felt him come and sit by her side again.

  It was time for dessert. For this course he seemed to have considered the favours extremely carefully so that he was able to increase the sweetness bit by bit. The first few mouthfuls he gave her were small spoons of plain vanilla ice cream. It was obviously very high quality because when she spent time savouring each mouthful she was amazed at how much rich creaminess she could find. Perhaps it was her heightened state of awareness but the flavour seemed to have so many more layers than she’d ever experienced before.

  When she’d swallowed the ice cream a small glass was held gently to her lips and a few drops of an incredibly sweet liquid poured onto her tongue. She allowed it to run slowly around her mouth and then swallowed. It was a dessert wine, she had had some once before at the end of a company dinner and had found it unpleasantly thick and sticky. This was different. Just the single mouthful left a complex tapestry of flavours in her mouth and the first time she understood what she had already always considered to be the poncey judgements of wine critics. There was a taste of sweet grapes, but also something like raisins and even honey and hints of peaches. She was still savouring all the different notes when the next spoon was held to her lips. There was a tiny morsel of a dry and fairly dull sponge and then an explosion of hot liquid chocolate. She swallowed greedily. It was one of her favourite puddings; a chocolate cake that was runny on the inside. He fed her a good five or six mouthfuls and interspersed each one with a sip of the dessert wine.

  There was a pause when he must have been eating and drinking himself and then came the final course; a handful of small but amazingly sweet ripe strawberries that had been dipped in a thin layer of whipped cream. She sucked and nibbled on them obediently and was rewarded with more of the amazing wine. He left her again but this time he moved into the living area and opened the patio doors.

  He came back and without a word lifted her from her seat and guided her down the room. She soon found herself outside in cooler air with her heels tapping on the stone work of the patio. She guessed she was being moved down the side of the house and then felt her feet touch something on the ground. He moved round her and with some gentle pressure lifted her leg then moved it across something and set it down again. Judging by the pressure on either side of her ankles she was standing astride something the size of a large backpack.

  His hands went to her shoulder and to the small of her back and pushed her downwards. She wobbled a little and then just as she felt she was about to fall her bum settled on something and she found herself in a seated position. There was warm soft leather curving between her thighs and she realised that she was sitting on a saddle.

  He wrapped thick straps around her ankles then pulled them upwards and tied them to something. With her feet held up behind her and she had to lean forward to keep her balance. Her mittened hands nudged against something that she guessed was the pommel at the front of the saddle and she rested her weight against it. With her legs bending behind her she was quite helplessly stuck. She accepted that she was now trapped in a horse riding position and sat and waited for what might happen next.

  A couple of minutes passed then a spoon brushed against her lips. She opened her mouth and discovered something sweet. She took the small chunk and gave it a tentative bite. Layers of chocolate gave way between her teeth and a divine soft truffle filling flooded across her tongue. She moved the rich paste around, savouring the beautiful combination of bitterness and sweetness, then swallowed. Something else was held in front of her; a touch of ceramic was followed by a hot liquid and she took a couple of gulps of strong black coffee. It was much thicker and richer than she normally drank and reminded her of the espressos she’d been served in Milan. The final taste in the trilogy was a mouthful of some kind of liquor, perhaps a brandy or a cognac, that sent a trail of glowing heat down her throat and into her stomach.

  She sensed him step away from her and sat and waited. Something moved under her and she gave a little jolt of surprise. The saddle was vibrating. Starting very gently at first a series of tremors rose through the leather between her legs and created a wonderfully relaxing massage effect. The power was obviously turned up because soon the strength and frequency of the vibrations increased and the rapid shaking sent waves of pleasure rising up through her whole body.

  She immediately started to wriggle and tilt her body. Moving forwards was the worst, or perhaps it was the best. There was a specific angle where the oscillations hit the knot of the rope between her legs and passed directly into the bud of her clitoris. She wallowed in the blissful pleasures of this position for a few seconds and then, fearing that she would lose control, rocked herself backwards. The sensations reduced and changed. Now the pleasant frequencies were rising through her buttocks and the back of her thighs. It was still very sensual, but much less likely to push her over the top. She sat back in this position for a while and tried to catch her breath.

  A gentle warmth was rising through her; the delicious flavours of the meal were still rich on her tongue and the last mouthful of the cognac had relaxed her muscles and left a soft glow radiating from her chest and tummy. If she stayed with her weight as far back as possible the vibrations remained pleasantly bearable and she could float in a blissful trance-like high.

  Her choices were soon reduced when he pushed the power up on whatever vibrating device that was built into the saddle. She shuddered and then fell forwards. Once again her soaking crotch was pressed against the curve of firm leather and intense waves of pleasure started to spread out from the very core of her. It was absolutely divine. She leant further forward and rested her mittened hands on the pommel. Very quickly her breath had shortened to pants and she was letting out little groans. She was dripping wet and extremely close to a monumentally huge and satisfying orgasm. Moans had started escaping her gritted teeth and the muscles in her inner thighs had started to tremble when the power was cut and the sensations vanished.

  She leant back and sucked in deep gulps of air. Some inner part of her was angry and frustrated but her outer shell appreciated that she hadn’t been given permission to cum and that by denying her the pleasure it meant that there was more teasing awaiting her.

  A minute or so had passed and her body had relaxed when she sensed movement near her and something was pressed to her mouth. Opening her lips she pulled in another small piece of the amazing confectionary and bit down. A rich dark chocolate flooded her senses and she allowed the crumbly flakes to melt on her tongue. These were no ordinary sweets from boxes and packets. These were the individual handmade artisan truffles that she saw in the windows of the expensive delicatessens. The taste was a perfect mixture of sweetness and bitterness and the depth of the complex flavours seemed to fill her whole head. Next there was another mouthful of the strong coffee and then a sip of the brandy. The warming liquids trickled down her throat and her body radiated heat. Every inch of her skin was stretched and flushed and it felt as if firm fingers were caressing every intimate part of her.

  The motor started again and the soft leather saddle began to tremble. She rode out the gentle massaging effect but then the inevitable increase in power left her at the mercy of the intense vibrations. Her orgasm rose quickly and she couldn’t fight it. Squirming and wriggling just made it worse. Waves of divine pleasure were spreading from the very heart of her and she gave way to them. She was gasping and groaning her way to relief when once again the motor was abruptly shut off
and she let out a moan of disappointment. She’d been very very close but he must have been watching her intently because he managed to deny her satisfaction right at the very last moment.

  There was a short pause while she gathered her breath then the straps that held her ankles behind her were let down and she was able to place her feet onto the ground. He eased her gently to her feet and she was surprised how weak and wobbly her legs were. Strong arms swung her off the saddle and held her while she hobbled across the terrace.

  Without a word he guided her through the lounge and kitchen and she realised she was being moved back into her temporary cell. She felt soft carpet under her feet then tugging at the tight rubber around her neck. Working slowly and methodically he rolled up the hood and she found she could see again. Her cheeks and forehead were clammy and sweaty and she longed to wash and wipe them. Still under the strict terms of a slave, she lowered her gaze and bowed her head while he and unfastened her mittened hands and removed the rope from between her legs. A soft and tender kiss landed on her temple and then he was gone.

  She heard the key turned in the lock them went straight to the small toilet. She washed her hands then splashed cool water on her face and set about her cleansing routine. Her head was beautifully dreamy and floaty and her body seemed to be tingling and gently pulsing. She was exhausted and keen to slip between the soft blankets on the gently heated carpet. Still wearing her stockings and the silky black body she curled up and rested her head. The eager heat was still burning in her crotch but she forced herself to keep her hands out of the blanket. The first thing she wanted to do was experience the soft warmth with her eyes closed. Gentle tremors of pleasure were still running up and down her muscles but these were the last sensations she remembered before she dropped into a deep restful sleep.

  Sunday

  He hadn’t given her any last-minute instructions. The thought came to her while she was still dozing in the early morning. The previous day he’d wanted her to wait bent over the table, but she was certain that he hadn’t given her any new commands the previous night. She tossed the idea around her sleepy mind for a little while then decided that the worst thing that could happen if she had missed an order was that she’d get punished and being punished might be a very interesting way to start the Sunday morning. With all the erotic possibilities swirling around in her dreamy head she drifted back to sleep.

  Later she heard some faint bangs and rattles and was aware of him moving around the house. Yawning she slipped from under the blankets and stood and stretched. After using the toilet she washed her face and teeth then sat and assessed her situation. She was now definitely very dirty but she knew that this was deliberate. There were many layers of sweat on her body and the crotch of her one-piece outfit had definitely been soaking wet on the saddle the previous night. Her hair was matted in many places from the hood but without a mirror she couldn’t see exactly where and could do nothing more than run her hands through it. She was pulling out the very worst of the tangles with her fingers when she heard the key in the door. Jumping to her feet she put her arms around behind her back and lowered her head into a suitable slave’s position. James came in then silently moved her out of the room with gentle pressure on her shoulders. She allowed herself to be guided through the kitchen and into the dining area then sank to her knees on the stone floor.

  They took breakfast in the usual way. She knelt silently listening to him eat and was then given a bowl of muesli and chopped fruit. He placed her food on the seat of one of the chairs and this made reaching it much easier. As she pushed the milk and bits and pieces of apple into her mouth she made a mental count. This was the fifth meal that she’d consumed like an animal, but it was clear that he took great pleasure in seeing her demean herself this way.

  When she’d finished she was commanded to get up and load the dirty items into the dishwasher. As soon as she’d completed her chores she found him at her side and without speaking a word he put a hand between her shoulder blades and firmly pushed her down the long room through the small porch and out along the lavender-lined path.

  It was a fabulous summer morning. The sun’s heat had already taken away the dawn chill and the bees were buzzing in the flower beds. The fresh scents of the countryside flooded her nose and she smelt damp grass and earth drying in the distant fields. He took her across the gravel to one of the ancient stone outbuildings and left her standing in the middle of the smooth concrete floor. There was something hanging from the ceiling and she waited patient and motionless while he reached for it and wrapped the thick soft object around her neck. It was a posture collar on a length of chain. Perhaps as much as four inches wide it was designed to hold a slave’s head up and did its job excellently. The soft leather was pressed against her chin and kept her facing straight ahead.

  The next item was a simple blindfold, the type issued by airlines to help their passengers sleep. It wasn’t as complete or daunting as the rubber hood but it blinded her quite effectively. Strong leather cuffs were buckled onto her wrists and then he tugged her arms high above her head and locked them to one of the links that were holding her collar. Cold steel was pressed into the waist band of her sheer body and the garment was cut off her. She was now in the dark, totally naked and totally helpless.

  The next garment he fitted was something quite complex. She heard the jangle of buckles then some type of open cut bra was carefully positioned around her breasts. More straps were tightened around her rib cage then pulled down from her belly button and passed between the lips of her pussy and up tight between her buttocks.

  Moving very discreetly so as not to attract his attention she straightened her back to get a feel for her new attire. Her breasts were poking proud through the leather straps and already her skin was taught and nipples were hard and eager for attention. After a brief pause she felt him touching her ankles. Working smoothly and gently he lifted each of her legs and slipped her feet into some kind of steep boot. Her soles were tilted as if she were in high heels but the thick leather and clomping weight of the footwear ruled out any kind of elegant stiletto.

  When he stood and started fitting something bulky over her head her suspicions of the scene they were about to play were confirmed. Her blindfold was removed and complicated headdress buckled onto her posture collar. A thick rubber bit gag was wedged between her teeth then blinkers were pushed down on either side of her eyes. He fiddled with the straps at her temples and although she couldn’t see she knew he was fitting a pair of long pointy ears.

  She was now a pony girl; a helpless naked female strapped into a series of complex harnesses and boots that made her more equine than human. As she was expecting he then stood behind her and brushed and tied her hair into a single bunch that just touched the skin between her shoulder blades.

  Finally her wrists were released from the chain above her head and re-locked to the harness at her hips. He clipped a couple of thin loops to either side of her gag then led her out into the warming sunlight.

  The first few steps were a revelation. Gone was the soft padding of bare feet or the sexy click of high heels. Now when she moved she clopped. There were obviously big steel shoes on the bottom of each boot and as she walked they made a loud clicking sound and sent vibrations shuddering back up her legs. It felt good. There was something strangely satisfying about producing such a solid echoing noise just by putting her feet down.

  The blinkers left her with nothing more than a narrow tunnel of vision and for a while she could only stare at a patch of sky straight ahead while his footsteps moved away and she was left alone. As always a little part of her normal mind flicked on and she assessed her situation. She was not tied to anything and could theoretically run away but the idea was ridiculous. She actually smiled as she thought about it. Her arms were pinned to her sides and she was naked and dressed as a horse. The idea of trotting up the long farm track towards civilisation was hilarious. Besides she wanted to stay and play out the scene. There was no fear or
apprehension left in her. She trusted him now and knew his rhythm and the tenderness of his touch. This strange new master measured her limits so carefully that he could take to the edge of both pain and orgasmic release and knew exactly when to stop. Her only regret was that there was so little left of their weekend together.

  While she waited she wriggled to get a sharper sense of what it was like to be a pony girl. Spittle was forming around the bit in her mouth and the more she pushed back her shoulders the more she could feel the pressure from her crotch strap. It all felt great. There was one thing missing though. She knew that because of the rule of ‘no touching below the waist’ that he’d left something out. On the pony girl websites that she’d seen the women usually had a tail. What horse didn’t? The girls were fitted with a thick horsehair plume that jutted proudly from their rears and were held in place with a butt plug. It was an area she’d never explored but the more she indulged in BDSM play the more certain she was that having something fitted to her rear would add to her sensations. A long time ago the idea would have been shocking to her but she’d learned to be more honest with herself; her backside was another erogenous zone that if treated properly could help to stimulate all her senses.